You go, Glen Coco!
by Humdiddly
Summary: Hi, I'm Finnian, and here are some things I hoped would never happen in my life;  -My father would leave my mother and run off with a gay lover.  -I would be forced out of my private education, and have to attend shitty public school.  OC story, send in!
1. Hi, I'm Finnian STOP ME and say HELLO

**Mostly just description & little dialogue. Sue me, it's the introductory chapter. OC form at the bottom. Yeah, I saved up all my pocket money and bought shares from Comedy Central, so I own South Park. (iwish.)**

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Hi, I'm Finnian, and here are some things I hoped would never happen in my life;

- My father would leave my mother and run off with a gay lover.

- I would be forced out of my private education, and have to attend public school.

- 2012.

Of course, as fate's a bitch, 2 out the 3 in that list happened. And, no, not 2012.

Here's my current situation; my twin sister and I are the 'new kids' at South Park High, the aformentioned public school we now have to attend since our family can no longer afford to pay the hefty price of the tuition fee. Which doesn't exactly make sense, because our mother had just bought a brand-spankin' new 612 Scaglietti Ferrari.

Yeah, a ferrari. And she says she can't afford to pay our tuition. I don't see how she _can't_ afford our tuition, but whatever. As if I needed private education that was a sure getway to attending an Ivy League school. Pfft, I could always use my amazing intelligence.

...No. See, I didn't exactly take advantage of the fact that I was attending a _prestigious_, _sought-after_ and _expensive _school. I skipped classes and rebeled and did all the normal teenage stuff. As expected, my grades fell. My GPA is like, negative three.

I'm practically retarded. Which would explain why the pricipal of the school is talking to me slowly.

"Finnian, I do hope you'll enjoy your time here. Now, did the nice reception lady give you your map and your locker combination?"

I nodded.

A loud cough came from my side, and I glanced over to see my sister, Delilah, sniggering into her shoulder. The little bitch with the 3.5 GPA.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" The pricipal, whose name I didn't bother remembering, pulled a drawer open and took out two...badges? "It's your welcome badges!"

She handed us the huge, bright yellow badge, with the words, My name is _ STOP ME and say HELLO. She scribbled in our names in the blank space.

...Well, at least it wiped Della's smirk right off her face.

Just to recap; My rich mother could no longer afford to keep my sister and I in private education, and we were forced to transfer to the shithole known as South Park High. It's our first day, and we don't know anyone, and the principal is escorting us through the halls, with our badges proudly proclaiming that we were the new kids, and yes, you have the right to make fun of us.

It's gonna be one long year.

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**I need a beta...I'm just utterly shit at tenses and everything else. ****Next chapter will be longer.**

**Can anyone guess where this story is based from? I'll draw your OC if you get it right~!**

**Quick intro to the author-Hey, hi, hello. Been around the SouthPark OC fandom since...08? Chugged out my first OC story, passed a couple of months, realized it was shit, took it down, went on a hiatus, lurked for a bit. But now, I'm back, chyeaah.**

**But that's not what you're here for, is it? Oh, and if you guys don't fill out **_**this **_**specific form, I'll know that you haven't read this pointless a/n and therefore is a lazy fuck, so unless you use this form, I won't accept your OC. Capeesh? Description and detail helps a lot, btw. **

**Constructive criticism is loved and appreciated.**

Nice to meet you, my parents named me:

But some people call me:

I'm a (gender):

But I like(gender your oc is attracted to-):

My crush:

I act like this around strangers (personality around strangers):

But if you really know me, I'm (personality around friends):

My story (history):

What I see in the mirror (apperance):

Typical clothes:

Love these (likes):

Ew, keep them away! (dislikes):


	2. Apples & maniacs

**I'll probably start every chapter with `The List`, you know, of Finnian talking about his dad problem and the whole private school to public school thing~**

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Through my short life, I've encountered a few awful experiences that I wouldn't wish on even my worst enemy. Of course, those things include my dad running off with his gay lover, transferring to public school and being the new kid.

Ahh, being the new kid. Like it isn't bad enough that you've been uprooted from your old school and from your old friends, you now have to endure the judgement of your peers. Oh sure, it's a breeze if you're tall, pretty and have a pair of huge knockers. Sure I'm tall but I'd rather not describe myself as pretty and I'm kinda sorta flat-chested. You know, like most guys tend to be.

Hi, I'm Finnian Niccals. I'm 15 years old and confidence level? Under 9000.

**SP**SP**SP**

"_I can hear the clock ticking_," I think, trying to will myself to stop the blood from rising to my face, "_Christ, it's like they've never seen a new kid before_."

I try to look at anything but the many pair of eyes that's glued to my form. Oh, hello, my scuffed up black Converse! How are you?

The teacher is hiding behind a magazine (Playboy, seriously? They let this dude teach?), his feet propped up on the desk carelessly. He lazily waves a hand in my direction, "Go on then, introduce yourself."

"U-uhm," I mentally slap myself for stuttering, "Hi, my name is Finnian Niccals and I er, I just moved here from Africa,"

Great. Now people are giving me the 'bitch please' look, y'know, when they look you up and down with one eyebrow raised, clearly not believing a word you say, "Uh, I mean, I just transferred from North Park."

Immediately, looks of disgust crossed their faces. Of course, I've almost forgotten about the infamous North Park vs. South Park rivalry. See, North Park is the type of place where rich people with jobs from Denver live. Their streets are lined with trees and it's all so clean and tidy, not even a piece of gum stuck on the sidewalk. The houses are huge and the people living in them are snobby and sophisticated. Whereas South Park... is the epitome of small-town living. The houses here are moderately sized and the town folks? They're your typical hicks, I suppose. White trash.

'Course, that's the opinion from someone who comes from North Park, so my views may be a bit biased, but whatever. What matters is that I'm on their territory. And Delilah was placed in another homeroom, so that means I'm left on my own.

"'Kay, choose any seat."

He sweeps a hand around the classroom, as if there were hundreds of chairs to chose from, but really, there's only one free seat in the back, a place from a window, next to some rough looking guy. He's smoking. Oh christ, seriously, smoking in the classroom? Behold the horrors of public school. I hurriedly scamper off and sit down, trying my best to ignore the smell of cigarettes.

The minute I was away from the front of the classroom conversation slowly filtered back in and - making sure that no one's staring at me - I let my gaze wander around.

Not that I can see anything interesting, just the backs of people's heads. Instead, I settle for using my ninja view (read; staring at people from the corner of your eye, with some of your hair in the way so they can't see you staring at them) to gaze at the rough-looking-guy next to me.

The first thing I notice is his hair. Being raised in an upper class environment, I tend to notice the off things about people's appearances. And  
christ, his hair is like a bird's nest. Unkempt, long-ish and a dark brown color. His skin is lightly tanned and few mottled bruises decorate his arms.  
His face is angular, strong jawline, with cutglass cheekbones.

I also notice the good things about people's appearances and I know enough about beauty to know that this boy could very well pass off as a model. Shame about the bruises and the crooked nose, though. He's obviously been in a few fights.

Oh jeez, I really can't stand the smell of cigarette smoke.

"E-excuse me," I start and he nonchalantly turns his head, revealing two piercing dark green eyes. "Could you maybe stop smoking? It's kinda irritating my eyes and-"

He opens his mouth and blows a smoke ring in my face.

In between my coughing, sputtering and choking he turned back to look outside the window as if nothing happened. I instantly decide that he's number two in my `BAD ASS MOTHERFUCKER/BAMF` list, number one being my sister.

I'm about to retort and demand an apology, a plan cut short as the bell rings. Right away, the students all stood up and started making their way to their individual lessons. I stood up as well, but I realize that I have no idea where I'm headed.

The teacher, thank god, also noticed because he suddenly barked out, "Bebe! Be the new kid's guide dog. Show 'im round the school."

A girl near the doorway with curly blond hair and the biggest racks I've ever seen stopped and turned to look at me, rolling her eyes as she did so.

"Come on then, new kid."

**SP**SP**SP**

It seems that Bebe has taken a liking to me, after finding out that we have Home Ec. together, if the way she's clinging to my arm is any indication. Really, I only took the class because it was the easiest - you make the food, make it look pretty and then eat it. Simple as anything.

But I'm the only guy in the class. She's now got it in her head that I'm somehow sensitive, dependable and that my favourite things are commitment and changing myself.

It's lunch now and after getting out food we sat down on an empty table in the middle of the lunch room. She's delicately picking at her salad. She's only took a salad, a bottle of water and an apple for her lunch. I look down on my own lunch - cheeseburger and fries, coke and a slice of chocolate cake. I feel like I've gained 100 pounds just by looking at it and push it away.

"Shut up, fatass!"

"Ey! Don't call me fat, you stupid Jew!"

"I swear Cartman-"

Turning my attention to the group who entered, I watch avidly as a short boy wearing a green ushanka raised his fist in front of a... in lack of better words, fat, brown haired boy. Their argument is really loud and I glance to Bebe, finding that she hasn't batted an eyelash at the commotion.

"Are they always like that?" I ask, motioning to the arguing boys.

Bebe blinks at me, a malicious glint appearing in her eyes.

"Yeah, always. You learn to ignore it. Anyway, see that fat boy? He's EricCartman, he's hates Jews and he's just generally an asshole. The other boy, Kyle Broflovski, he's like, a genius or something. And he has the cutest ass in the _world_."

Oh. That's why she's smirking. Gossip.

"See that boy, the one with the red poofball hat? That's Stan Marsh, Kyle's best friend since like, forever. And the dude next to him with the orange parka, that's like totally from the dollar store, that's Kenny McCormick. He's the poorest boy in the school and he like, dies a lot, but no one really cares anymore."

Wait, did she just say dies? I must've misheard. Bebe's in full swing - she's pointing out everyone in the cafeteria and relying all sorts of information onto me. It's like a roll call of scorn.

"Oh, see that girl there, the one sitting in the table next to the trash? The one with the tacky pink hair, she's Sunny, she's kind of a freak, really. The other girl with the black hair is Angelina, she's like, frigid. The blond dude with them is Gary, total mormon and creepily nice twentyfour-seven. The other dude with the hat is Pip, I know, weird name, he's like, french or something. European."

She takes a quick sip from her drink and continued her list shamelessly. Does this girl ever stop talking?

"Do not_ ever _go near 'em. They're known in the school as the freaks. If you're caught talking to them, you'll be dubbed a freak too-and sugar, you're too pretty for that," She grins and leans closer to me, but there's a table in her way. And thank god for that. Bebe's pretty, sure, but the girl wears far too much makeup.

Bebe spots someone in the crowd and the smirk returns again.

She picks up her apple, turns to look at me and mumbles, "Finn, after I count three, duck under the table."

I follow her gaze to some guy in a black trenchcoat (Seriously. A trench coat. Guy must think he's in some spy movie or something.) with flat brown hair. She's tossing the apple in her hand.

"Bebe, you're not gonna throw the apple in the guys head are you?"

She blinks at me, "Er, no, actually I was just gonna roll it in front of Bain, but your idea is better."

She pulls her arm back, that smirk still painted onto her face.

"One-"

"Bebe, no-"

"Two-"

"Seriously, no-"

"Three!"

She throws the apple into a graceful curve and it hits the poor guy, bouncing off his head innocently and hitting the floor. He flinches instinctively and curses, yet it looks like the apple must have caught his gaze.

He starts hyperventilating and even though I'm a few feet away from him, I can hear the laboured breathing clearly. I still haven't ducked down, as Bebe suggested. She's tugging on my jeans from under the table, obviously having ducked down when I wasn't looking.

"Finn! Come down here!"

Trenchcoat guy's head snaps up and his eyes lands on me. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks completely ready to kill. His hands are twitching violently at his sides. I bring my hands to my chest in surrender, palms facing him, trying to show that I mean no harm.

"Err, uhm-" I look around for any authority figures. Where the_ hell _are the teachers?

"Shut up." He snaps and steps forward.

I instinctively take a tiny, little step back.

He lunges at me and we fall to the floor after the brutal tackle. Well, I fallon the floor and he falls on top of me, hands tightly snaked around my neck whilst my own hands work overtime to pry him off of me. He takes one hand off my neck, allowing me some air. While his right hand is still holding on tightly to my neck, his left starts raining punches down on my face. And I, rather uselessly, kick my legs around in a desperate and failing attempt at coming free.

A large crowd has formed around us by now, chanting "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

I try to look at them, trying to convey enough emotion through my eyes to show my weakness, to show that I could need some freaking help. But they're all drowning in their adrenaline and excitement, too pumped up to do anything but cheer on the fight.

_ican'tbreatheIcan'tbreathe_**ICAN'TBREATHE  
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Through Bain's fist pounding into my face I somehow see a break in the crowd, a lone person approaching up. A dainty hand placed itself over Bain's shoulder and tugs him away. He turns and look around, eyebrows still furrowed, his eyes still screaming murder. He meets the pretty face of my sister. She smiles and the sprinkling of freckles she has makes her look young and innocent.

"Get off my brother."

Delilah then snaps her arm back, her bracelets dangling and crashing into each other, creating a merry tune among all the noise. And then she brings her fist flying into the spot right between Bain's eyes, knocking him out instantly.

There's a reason why she's Number 1 in my "BADASSMOTHERFUCKER/BAMF" list.

Recap; A rough-looking guy blew a smoke ring in my face. Bebe - girl with huuuge racks - showed me round the school, warned me not to talk to 'freaks' and threw an apple on Bain's head. Which only resulted in Bain beating me up. And that resulted in my sister knocking Bain out with a single perfectly aimed punch.

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**HUGE THANKS to my beta, TIGHT HOLD ON DEATH, for getting all those damn mistakes, especially the tenses :') ****any mistakes left are claimed by mee~!**

**uhm. I did say I'd update every Saturday, but I got lazy. Not much to say, the OC's who haven't appeared yet will appear in the next few chapter &i'll try make them all have equal screen time along with the canons :')**

**So, till next tiiime! (oh, and the update won't probably be in the weekend cause I'm going to the MCM Expo-cosplay :heart: i'll try to update faster~****)**


	3. Used condoms are sexy

Halloween- Part One; used condoms are sexy.

Hey there. I'm Finnian Niccals and I've been attending public school, South Park High, for about 3 weeks now, due to my mother spending mine and my sisters' tuition money on a brand new Ferrari. Anyway, because of this ohsolifechanging moment, you'd expect me to learn quite a few 'lessons in life', right?

Here's what I've learned so far;

1. Teachers can freely read Playboy at their desks, without any sort of punishment or threats of being fired.

2. NEVER trust Bebe Stevens with an apple. Ever. The result is that I get beaten to a bloody pulp.

3. Older sisters are very, very protective of little brothers. So protective that they would hire a French teenage mercenary to protect their little brother from apple-fearing psychopaths.

I'm a 15 year old boy attending public school, with a French mercenary following me around 24/7. Can you say LOSER?

**SPSPSP**

"I am not wearing that," I puff out my cheeks and glare at Bebe, who in turn gives me the puppy eyes, holding out the revolting and too-bright tiger print pimp costume, "I told you, I'm Harry Potter."

She frowns and shakes her head, blond curls (and boobs) bouncing, "But Harry Potter is so boring!"

Bebe expertly ignores my offended look and cuts me off before I can start up a rant and defend Harry's honour. "And look! Harry Potter doesn't have a pimp cane!" She exclaims and gestures to the golden pimp cane lying on the floor, smiling cheerfully.

"I don't want a pimp cane. I'll stick with my wand, thanks."

"But I gotta have a pimp in my party, otherwise I'll just look like your average street ho." Bebe pouts and curls a strand of hair around her finger, clearly not agreeing with my taste in costumes.

For a girl who is in AP Biology and AP Geology, whose life dream is to become a marine biologist, Bebe Stevens could be a fucking dumbass sometimes. But I suppose she has an excuse. She is blond, after all.

"Isn't Kenny bringing the Raisins girls? Give it to him."

**SPSPSP**

The party is in full swing - and everyone is clad in various costumes. Everyone meaning everyone. Bebe told me that her parties were usually reserved for a few hand-picked people, but when Halloween rolls around, anyone can attend, meaning that the freaks, geeks, losers and goths can go out and socialize with people outside their cliques.

It's quite a sight, actually. To see people like Nick Acqua, who usually stays at home whenever there's a party, out and sort-of socializing with people like Lucy Montgomery, Little Miss Sunshine and Popularity. Nick is dressed in a long robe - I seriously think he's supposed to be Jesus and Lucy's dressed as a female Mad Hatter, with her fringe dyed a neon green.

People have really made an effort to look good. Bebe had given Kenny the pimp outfit and has been with him all night, along with the Raisins girls, all dressed as his hoard of whores. Stan has gone as a vampire, while Kyle opted for a werewolf outfit, or as Cartman kept calling him, a "Jew-wolf." Cartman himself is Hitler, complete with the tiny square mustache and the bad attitude.

Dylan Edwards has come as the perfect Alice and Delilah is with her dressed as the Queen of Hearts. Meredith has come as a witch, in a co-ordinating black and orange outfit. Riot and Sunny are both dressed as schoolgirl zombies, with white-out contacts and fake blood to go. To be honest, they scare me, so I've been trying to avoid them all night.

Feeling thirsty, I head to the kitchen and find Christophe DeLorne, French mercenary and hired to be my stalker, lounging on one of the counters. He's just dressed normally - well, as normal as a teenage mercenary could be.

I proceed to give him the evils and tell him straight out, "You need a costume."

He scoffs at me and rolls his eyes, taking a sip from the bottle of vodka he's holding, "Halloween. Such a childish holiday."

"You look retarded wearing normal clothes."

"Look who's talking, Mr. Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter is amazing," I say, rummaging around Bebe's kitchen looking for cling film, "Did you defeat the Dark Lord when you were a kid? No? Didn't think so.

I smile as I find the cling film, then rip a long sheet out and approaching Christophe, wrapping it around his neck. I'm surprised - he didn't even flinch when I wrapped the film around his neck. I'm guessing the bitch thinks I'm weak. I raid the fridge next, flourishing a can of whipped cream, silently applauding myself for such a splendid idea. I spray the whipped cream all over him.

"_Que l'enfer_? What are you doing?"

"I just made you your costume. You like?"

"What the fuck am I supposed to be?"

I grin maniacally and step away from him, already knowing how he'll react, "A used condom."

His reaction is instant. He springs from the counter and lunges at me, but I step away, bolting towards the crowded living room. I push people away and ignore their insults as I go, laughing all the way until my escape is cut short by a sudden weight on my back, forcing me I greet the carpet with my face. Before I can push the weight away, the lights flicker off, screams, thumps and footsteps tearing through the darkness. I stay on the ground, the abrupt disappearance of light paralyzing me.

The lights come back as quickly as it turned off. When it returns and let me see again I'm met with a pair of empty blue eyes. Kenny McCormick's face is turned towards me, my eyes widening as I notice the long fireplace poker sticking out of his chest. His blood is spilling out of multiple wounds in his chest, coating us both in crimson liquid.

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**LOTS OF LOVE FOR MY BETA, TIGHT HOLD ON DEATH.**

**here's part one of chapter 3! i know, halloween was like, a week ago, but fjasdn i just love halloween sososo much! uhm. moar oc involvement in part two! there's gonna be like, a murder mystery hunt thing~ LOOK FOR KENNEH'S KILLER.**


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